


Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts - New Horizons

by Moonshore8



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:21:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23499673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshore8/pseuds/Moonshore8
Summary: After Dumbledore and Voldemort's deaths on the Triwizard Tournament, Harry has been dealing with thoughts of sadness and sorrow until he receives a letter from his former headmaster, encouraging him to keep exploring, discovering and enjoying his magic. Harry's also of age in this story, and he decides to move to the Burrow until his fifth year begins.With the help of his old friends and new faces too, he's gonna prepare himself for a new year. A new headmistress, lots of exams and lots of knowledge are waiting for him.
Kudos: 3





	Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts - New Horizons

Last Days of July  
It's commonly said summer goes by so fast. And maybe that’s true. Some people think it’s because of the joy of not working or going to school. For others, it’s doing what they really like, no matter what. However, it’s not always like that, and not everybody enjoy it. Because for a few, summer is nothing other than months full of suffering, sadness and sorrow.  
There is a house in Privet Drive, which isn’t too different from the others. In that house, there lived a wizard. Well, he wasn’t a skilful wizard, or an astute one. He didn’t even had a lot of knowledge about magic, as he found out unfortunately in the last few months. That Wizard, Harry Potter, was going through one of the worst moments of his life. 

Months ago, the terrible and cruel battle he knew it was going to happen occurred. A battle that he didn’t think it was going to take place until a few years later, when he was probably older and more magically trained. It was the battle that changed his perspective and view about what magic is all about, how it works and how much of a wizard he was, and what he could have been.

It befell after the third and last challenge of the Triwizard Tournament between three schools: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. When he decided to share the first place with his schoolmate Cedric Diggory, they were immediately transported to another place. It was a creepy, awful cemetery. Sinister and obscure, there was someone who Harry couldn’t see well, but he knew who it was. Peter Pettigrew. 

His memory is just distorted. He can’t think very well, he can’t feel very well. All he knows is that he’s close, he truly is. He knew what it was about, he had a feeling about it. He- “Voldemort, Harry, remember to call him by his name” Dumbledore always insisted in that, was finally going to resurrect, thanks to the help of his servant Wormtail.

Suddenly, Voldemort orders Cedric’s death, and Pettigrew kills him. Yes, that was what Harry kept and kept dreaming most of this summer. How he could have saved the poor Hufflepuff Student. He thought his final breath was already planned too. He was going to murder Harry, as he did with his parents. It was just a matter of minutes.

However, what Harry didn’t notice, and how could he, with everything that was thinking about that year –the Yule Ball, the tournament, Voldemort’s coming back- that in his wand there was a tracking spell, casted by none other than Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore just appeared there in a minute, and he brought a lot of the Members from the Order, just like Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black. Voldemort wasn’t alone. He had his own Death Eaters, disgusting people as Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy.

It was going to happen, in front of his eyes, just in that moment. Harry didn’t feel prepared for that moment. He knew he had to do more, he should have done more in all those years in Hogwarts. He wasn’t ready for facing his worst enemy. 

But he wasn’t ready for its results. Dumbledore was dead, as well as his own godfather. Voldemort, and lots of death eaters, were dead too. Harry couldn’t believe it, he was terrified. Petrified. It couldn’t end like this. His protector and guardian, the best wizard he’d ever known, Albus Dumbledore. The only one who Voldemort was afraid of. Sirius, who only went there to protect and keep an eye on his godson, was hit by the worst curse casted by Bellatrix Lestrange, who was destroyed by Auror Nymphadora Tonks. Voldemort and Dumbledore, face to face, wand to wand. Spells and spells, curses and curses. And it ended like that.

Harry felt heartbroken. With all these, a part of him just died too. It wasn’t fair, he thought. It wasn’t how it should have ended. All those three years in Hogwarts, four if you count this one, when he was discovering his magic, just passed by like a lightning.  
Sirius, whom Harry only had met the previous year, whom had promised to live with him after all of this was over. Now, it couldn’t be.

Voldemort, whom Harry hated the most, more than anything, who was the responsible for all those atrocious crimes, all those years full of fear, pain, blood and tragedy. That Pureblood speech of him and all those who followed him. All of that was over now. 

There are moments of grief and moments of peace. Who can describe them like Harry? Who could have thought or knew what was going to occur. For him, for Dumbledore and for Sirius too. Where are they know? What happens after death? Are they in peace now? Harry had all of that in his mind for days, even for weeks. 

The next day, the funerals for all the members of the Order who died during the battle. Dumbledore’s funeral was set for that day too. The Magic Community, well, actually it was Harry, along with the Head of Houses, decided to do it outside of Hogwarts, in the gardens not so far as Hagrid’s Hut. He’d have liked it. The students, with their worried and long faces. The staff, most of them couldn’t believe what just had happened. Hagrid was crying and sobbing, while Professor McGonagall was seen with a sad look between her glasses. She’s a strong woman, but they all felt like strength wasn’t with them that day.

Other wizards came to the funeral. Madame Maxime, who sat next to Hagrid, Elphias Doge and Bathilda Bagshot, as Hermione had told Harry. The Weasleys were there too. Mrs Weasley, who seemed to be crying before that, hugged Harry so much he felt like he wasn’t to let him soon. Bill and Charlie were there too. They had talked previously to Harry, but they asked again how he was feeling. They cared so much for Harry since they had met him before his fourth year began. The brothers reassured Harry if he needed anything, they were always going to be there when he needed them.

After the funeral, Harry was seeing around the lake. He didn’t feel like talking with anyone. He was going through so much stuff and overthinking it was all because of him. All because of "The Boy Who Lived". Nothing would have happened. Dumbledore would still be here, and Sirius too. And Cedric. Oh, Cedric. 

Ron and Hermione found him and told Harry, as they had told him before and will for the next days. "It wasn’t his fault but Voldemort’s". That same day, classes were dismissed for the rest of year – although there were only a couple of days left for the end of the year anyway. 

He knew this summer was going to be hard, difficult and different from all the others. He didn’t feel like the same guy he was before that day. That day, he remembered.

Harry had been having nightmares and bad dreams for weeks. Nightmares started since he had returned to his uncles’ house in Privet Drive. His uncle didn’t let him get out of his room that late. 

“What do you think you are Potter? First you come and live and now you think you can do whatever you want!”. When he could sleep, he always dreamt about that day, Dumbledore dying, Harry fighting along Sirius. Sirius’ face before he died. But the worst one of them all, the worst nightmare, Harry looked like Voldemort. He was looking at himself, his body, lying in the cold and bloody floor.

Days weren’t better either. He had to wash, to cook, to do all the chores he had to do while he was living under the despicable Dursleys’ roof, if he wanted to stay there the whole summer. Of course, that wasn’t what Harry wanted. Harry would have wished to live in a house filled with love, and kindness, and tenderness, just like his friend Ron’s.  
There were days when Harry felt like he was done, with everything. Like he couldn’t do anything else. But then, he thought in his friends, in his family, in Dumbledore, in the magic World.

It was the day before his fifteenth birthday. After making dinner, he went to his room, or what it seemed to be a room at all. Exhausted, he threw himself on the cold bed, with a dirty mattress that might have belonged to his uncle or used by one of the dogs of the perverse Aunt Marge. How he hated her! All those awful things she said about his parents.

Straight away, he noticed an envelope on his desk, next to a photo of his mother, Lily. The envelope was red velvet with a little Phoenix on top of it. When he opened it, he noticed there were two things on it. A letter, which seemed to be have been handwritten recently, and a shorter sheet, a document he perceived, with a writing that looked like it was written long ago by some typewriter. If there were typewriters in the magic universe.

The letter was written by Hogwarts’ former headmaster and Harry’s magical guardian, Albus Dumbledore. He was longing to read something from him, at least one last time.

Dear Harry,  
'If you’re reading this, and I’m sure it’s going to be sooner than I think, it’s that Lord Voldemort has been defeated. The wizarding world has been restored, and peace and harmony will prevail again. Unfortunately, not all is good news, as you must have witnessed. Several members from the Order may have sacrificed themselves in the fight, and that might have included me. I’ve been aware for a long time, and I verified that the moment you faced Professor Quirrell, that the only way to defeat Lord Voldemort was to destroy what he couldn’t, that is you, Harry.

Nonetheless, that was something I couldn’t let it happen. That’s why things ended up as they should have ended. I’m sorry they turned out this way, and that we couldn’t do more to save your parents, or even you. I regret placing you in a place far away from magic, from what you truly are. Harry, one has to take advantage of the time we’ve left, before it’s too late.

I’m not trying to remind you of the bad times, but to show you that days keep passing by. The world won’t stop spinning around because of certain events. When Voldemort was defeated the first time, an era of hatred and cruelty was over. Right now, another moment of peace has just begun, one without Voldemort, forever and for good.  
.  
In any case, what I’m trying to recall and express you is that a new day has begun, and a new year in Hogwarts will start very soon. Chances are that Professor McGonagall will become the new Hogwarts headmistress, which I’m pleased to think about it. I can’t think of anyone better than her for that position.

Remember Harry, a world full of wonders is out there for you to find out, to uncover its secrets, this time without the ancient fears and precautions we had to take. 

Explore, research, imagine and have fun'.

Yours sincerely, 

Albus Dumbledore

Harry couldn’t stop the tears that ran from his eyes, like the waterfalls that nourished the fountains of forgiveness, as he once read in History of Magic. It was a Dumbledore’s letter, one he wrote for him. He knew. He was genuinely aware of what was going to occur. Dumbledore sacrificed his life for him. 

After a whole bunch of emotions flourished in him, his attention turned to the other paper. It was a greyish-yellow document, and it had a seal on it. It was from the Ministry of Magic. It wasn’t as long as Dumbledore’s letter, nor had the same kind of writing. Evidently, since his godfather and magical guardian had passed away, Harry was considered of legal age to the eyes of the Wizarding world, according to the Ministry. It also said that Harry could go to Gringotts’ vaults and take what it’s his, or manage it, as he wishes.

Harry was astonished, but that meant a lot to him. Now, he could cast spells at the Dursleys, in this muggle house where had to live for 14 years. Now, he could sweep, he could clean and do all the chores with magic…

No.

Not anymore. He was already a grown-up, according to the Ministry. He no longer needed to live in the old and hideous Durlsey’s house. He can live in the magic world, if that’s what he wanted. And that’s what Harry yearned. No more summers in Privet Drive, no more chores, no more Dursleys. 

Harry knew what he had to do indeed. He took a parchment from behind his desk. He had to do some assignment that Professor Snape lent them to do on holidays. That man never gave him a break. Thereby, he wrote a letter to his friend Ron, recounting everything that had happened. He also begged him to tell Hermione too. He was sure she’d be at Ron’s, or at least he’d have more communication with her. Then, he sent Hedwig with the letter and wished he’d get it as soon as possible.

After that, he quickly went down the stairs and, in the middle of their uncles’ dinner, he showed up with the Ministry paper in his hand, and put it in front of Uncle Vernon’s face. All of sudden, his face was starting to get red, a red that could only be comparable to a tomato. He demanded to know 'what on earth was happening'. He harshly took the letter from his nephew’s hand and began to read it. He was getting redder and redder, and now it looked like he was going to explode and kick him out on the cold street. In spite of that, the first thing he did was break the document, the only proof the Young wizard had of being an adult. 

“Now you’re not going anywhere, boy”, Uncle Vernon spattered with a malicious grin. Enraged, Harry took out his wand and pointed it in his uncle’s face. No, he wasn’t going to cast any of the Unforgiven Curses. He couldn’t do it, after his parents, Dumbledore and Sirius. Everything’s coming back to him. Sirius’ face, the only blood relative he could met. 

Unexpectedly, all the pieces of the document joined together and the document looked like new. As when Harry read it.

Harry decided he couldn’t take this anymore. So, he casted a spell and suddenly all of his belongings were packed inside a little wooden trunk. Along with Hedwig, who had just returned from his trip, they were about to leave the house. 

As soon as he got to the door, he felt a hand behind him. It wasn’t as large as Uncle Vernon’s but not as lanky as Aunt Petunia’s. It was Dudley's. The same Dudley who made his life impossible –well, it wasn’t just him- in this place. Dudley, who always made him suffer.

“I just wanted to apologise to you. I’m sorry for all the nasty things I did to you all these years. It wasn’t my intention”. Harry stared at him confused, doubting whether to believe him or not. Notwithstanding, when Dudley extended him his hand, Harry shook it. “Don’t worry Dudley, that’s all in the past. Take care of yourself”. 

Making a little gesture, Dudley went back to his room. Harry was determined to get out of the house, but he was stopped by a yell from Aunt Petunia, who was carrying something. It was an old handmade blanket, with the initial H embroidered in red. That blanket looked familiar to the wizard, but he couldn’t guess from where. 

“It was your mother’s. When you were born, she wrapped you up with this blanket”, she told Harry with no intention of appearing touched.

“Thank you” Harry whispered once she gave it to him. Aunt Petunia turned around, leaving Harry in the front door. However, before she did that, he thought he saw a small grimace of sadness on her aunt’s lips. The most surprising thing was that they weren’t from relief. 

Not expecting anything from his uncle, he left his house. His former house. Although it was never a house, he had realised that way before. It was the least like a home he had.  
Harry didn’t have a concrete plan. He knew there was a bus stop not too far from there. Maybe he could go to Diagon Alley and rent a hotel room –despite he didn’t have any money with him – or maybe he could go to Gringotts, and get some money from his vaults.

Nonetheless, as Harry was walking out of Aunt Petunia’s garden, a garden that Harry had to work at, mowing and watering plants, a flying car, or what it seemed to be a car just flew in and stopped in the walk street, in front of Ms Figg’s. It was a red velvet car, not so small, four of five people could have entered in it. It didn’t have any defect or dent on it, Harry thought. Suddenly, the doors opened and Harry saw that the driver was Ron’s dad, Arthur Weasley.

“Harry! How are you doing? I hope you’re not too cold over there!” Mr Weasley exclaimed with a little smile on his face.

“Hello Mr. Weasley, I’m doing fine But how did you know I was out here” Harry was really happy and glad he was there, but it hasn’t been a lot time since he sent that letter to Ron. “I mean, I was just…”

“Oh Harry. I already know about the letter you’ve received. In fact, it was me who decided to send it to you today, just one day before your birthday. I knew that it was going to make you happy. Nevertheless, the Ministry didn’t wanted you to know about it, at least until you’ve started your fifth year in Hogwarts. They felt it was too soon, that Dumbledore may have rushed a little that was what Fudge said about it. You’ve seen how he is”. 

Harry remembered that man from his second and third year. He thought he was a nice, decent man when he first met him, but he turned out to be quite disgusting, an incompetent in better words. So he wasn’t surprised at all.

“Anyway, I felt you’d be happy at getting it, I knew you would. It was the best for you”, Mr Weasley added. 

.”Mr Weasley, you can’t imagine how much I appreciate this. Thank you” Harry hugged the old man, it felt like he was going to sob again, but he controlled himself. 

“You don’t have to say it, Harry. I’m sorry it had to happen this way, I mean what happened to Dumbledore, to Sirius”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s more than that, Mr Weasley. I feel guilty about it, responsible for what happened there. I could have saved them, Dumbledore and Sirius, but Cedric too. It wasn’t his battle, he shouldn’t have been there” Harry mumbled in what it seemed was what he most thought about these last few months. 

“Harry, don’t say that! It’s not your fault, you know that. We all know that. It’s not. They knew what they were doing, they were grown men, Harry. Do you remember what we, Molly and I, and I bet the washing machine I confiscated last month and have kept in our attic, that Bill and Charlie, and the twins too, have told you after the funeral? You’re family, Harry. You’re like a son to us, you know no matter what, you can always count with us”. 

After hearing this, Harry felt like a cascade was coming out of his eyes. He always felt so loved with the Weasleys, and Harry felt the same way. They were marvellous, all of them –even Percy. And he knew Arthur didn’t say it just to console him. He meant that. 

“We’re safe and glad you’re fine, but you know that sometimes it’s okay not to be. It’s okay, it’s common to feel sad, to feel sorrowful, but it’s not that you lament yourself for something you couldn’t have done. They were both highly powerful wizards, son. Sometimes we can’t control things the way we want them to be. Anyway, you may be wondering what I’m doing here. But I guess you know already. It’s time to go home” he giggled as he was magically placing Harry’s little trunk in the back of his car.

Harry felt like a new chapter in his life was going to start. A part of his life had ended when Dumbledore fell, another one was ending right now. But he was starting to think, after all the comfort and lovely words his friends, no, not friends, family. All the things his family said to him. He knew he would overcome all of this. And he knew Dumbledore was right. It was time to rediscover the magical world, this time, through Harry’s eyes and intentions.

“Yeah, let’s go home” Harry said, smiling to himself, because he knew where he was going to. The only place he ever truly felt like a home, like a real home.

The Burrow

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is the first chapter of this fanfic I'm making. Harry's fifth year would be quite different from the original one, as two major characters are already dead. There'd be some things that'd be like the book. Characters from other works, such as Carry On and Worst Witch, as well as Hogwarts Mystery, are gonna appear quite soon. 
> 
> It's my first fanfic and as you may have guessed, my first language isn't English, so I hope you can understand it, in spite of grammar mistakes. 
> 
> Since I'm not a big fan of the Dursley, this was quite dull for me to write. 
> 
> Anyway, if you have any comment, I'd love to read them 
> 
> None the original characters and plots belong to me. Harry Potter is a property of JK Rowling and the editors of the books. (I felt since it's the first one to write this disclaimer here. And about characters from other books, such as Baz from Carry On, I'm gonna say it when I first write about him).


End file.
